


Six Times Peeta Thought His Heart Stopped and One Time it Did

by Phoebsfan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebsfan/pseuds/Phoebsfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six times Peeta thought his heart stopped and one time it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Times Peeta Thought His Heart Stopped and One Time it Did

**Author's Note:**

> This story visits both book and movie versions: meaning if something happened in one version of the story and it isn't present in the telling of this tale, that snippet is likely based off the other version of the story.

 

 

 

 

* * *

**1\. The Reaping**

* * *

**  
**  


When Primrose Everdeen's name is read it doesn't register. It isn't until he hears _her_ cry out that the blood freezes in his veins.

 

“I volunteer!”

 

His chest is tight, he can't breathe. He knows her voice. Doesn't have to look because it's been haunting him for years. Teasing him, just out of his reach. She's always been just a heartbeat away, and he's always been too afraid to say anything.

 

Now it's too late, and for the first time in his life he feels frozen. His heart forgetting how to beat for a minute.

 

Katniss' voice is broken and desperate, kind of like the sick sinking feeling in his stomach. His blood runs cold as he watches them escort her to the stage. His world is suddenly so small and hazy, he can't seem to focus on anything other than her face.

 

She's so careful and controlled, he forgets that they're only half done. His mind is spinning through all kinds of scenarios and justifications for why things could be worse. She is Katniss after all. He's seen enough of her squirrels to know she's an ace with a bow. She's a hunter, if anyone can survive the games it's her. But it doesn't ease the ache building in him, or the dread that she might not come back.

 

It's not really a game. It's more like a war; a slaughter no one with half a brain wants to play. Still she might make it... or not.

 

He wishes he could wake up from this nightmare. The only thing worse than her going to the games would be...

 

“...Peeta Mellark.”

 

_No. It can't be happening..._

 

He's numb as he feels himself propelled toward the stage, yet his cheeks are wet as he stands and looks out at them all. He knows what it's like to stand in the crowd and avoid eye contact. He knows what they're all thinking. Relief, that they've made it another year without hearing their names read. Shame. There is nothing they can do to help him now. Nothing except take his place and only Katniss has ever had a heart selfless enough for that.

 

He's numb as he shakes her hand, the only time he's touched her. Maybe the only time he ever will now. So many possibilities crash around them, so many dreams that she'll never know. She can't hear the sound of their future dying, and it's too loud for him to escape.

 

There is only one way out of the games, and it's not a road he wants to think about.

 

He wishes his heart really had stopped because he doesn't know how he's going to live if she doesn't.

 

 

 

* * *

**2\. The Careers and Consequences of Collusion**

* * *

**  
**  


 

He allied himself with the Careers for one reason only: to lead them away from her. If that's all he can do to protect her, it's worth whatever she might think of him or what it will probably cost him.

 

The awful burden of his affection for her no longer rests so heavy on his shoulders now that all of Panem knows it exists. Now that she's heard him say it.

 

If one good thing comes from this, it will be that. He's resigned himself to the fact that at least they had a few days together. She knows his name, that he finds her desirable. When she gets out of this, because he has to believe she will, she can remember he loved her.

 

Still even with all the mental pep talks he's given himself on the subject, he's not ready to stumble across her at the river. He's not prepared for that heart clutching panic that hits him full force as his companions run after her; giddy with plans of her demise.

 

His body moves forward even if he can't breathe. His muscles move without him, as if they know he needs her breathing so he can.

 

 _Run. Run, Katniss. Please God, let her be fast enough. Please. I'll do anything. Just run_.

 

It's all he can do as he tries to outrun them all. He knows he's not fast enough to get there before the bloodthirsty pack, and he knows there is nothing he could do even if he was, but he's desperate to beat the odds. Do the impossible.

 

When she scales a tree he can breathe again, even if she's giving him a look that shows him she doesn't believe anything that came before this moment. He doesn't care. She's alive.

 

None of it matters, as long as she's still breathing.

 

His heart pounds in his chest as he catches his breath. Logic says it's from his wild sprint through the woods, but he knows better.

 

It's only echoing hers. Only pounding because she's near. Safe. For now.

 

It's only catching up from that moment when he met her eyes in the river and it stopped.

 

He wonders if she can feel the way their hearts are tethered, or if it's only in him. A one way connection.

 

He guesses that he'll never know. He's not planning on being around much longer anyway.

 

 

* * *

**3\. Winning The Games... Or Not**

* * *

**  
**  


 

Somehow they've made it. They've won.

 

He can't believe it.

 

Turns out he was right not to.

 

Only one of them gets out of this after all. He never should have believed otherwise.

 

Her.

 

It was always going to be her, he tells himself as he tells her to kill him. It comforts him. This decision to let her win, not that there was ever another way. If these are his last moments he's glad they will be with her.

 

He wants nothing more. He's held her. Kissed her. Loved her. Though he knows that a life spent with her would be better than dying, he tries not to think about the things they'll never do together.

 

He doesn't know why he didn't anticipate her objecting to his plan.

 

Instead she holds out a hand of deadly berries and tells him she's going with him. Tells him to trust her.

 

It goes against everything he's planned for, believed in, known... But he does.

 

He trusts her.

 

“Together?”

 

“Together.”

 

This time his heart catches in his throat as he reaches out and touches her braid, stills as she lifts her hand to her lips. Death awaits them. Both of them.

 

_I love you. Forever._

 

He hopes she understands.

 

 

* * *

**4\. The Train After The Games**

* * *

**  
**  


 

“So, what you're saying is, these last few days and then I guess... back in the arena... that was just some strategy you two worked out.”

 

She denies it. Says the words that make sense but don't make it hurt less.

 

He asks her if it was just for the Games when he already knows the answer.

 

She stumbles around words and explanations like an elephant trying to tiptoe. It's loud and brutally inept. He can't really hear her anymore, anyway. He's too busy trying to pick up shards of his shattered heart from under her horribly careless feet.

 

He wants to know how much of it was just a game, but he can't stomach the thought. Can't really understand how she could have played him so well. How he could have believed her so easily.

 

He loves her enough to die for her, but she's... ambivalent at best.

 

He feels sick.

 

“Well, let me know when you work it out.”

 

Once again he wishes his heart really had stopped, because there is nothing worse than this feeling. Knowing that after all they've been through, it was all a lie.

 

His heart is tied to a girl who doesn't care and he can't do anything to stop it's beating.

 

* * *

**5\. The Victory Tour**

* * *

**  
**  


 

He wanders the train at night, he can't sleep. Hasn't been able to since before the arena. This tour only makes things worse.

 

He tries not to think about the next stop. The next District. The next tribute's family. Or the fact that she's in the next room and he can't run away.

 

At home he pretends like it never happened. At least when it comes to them; he can't seem to forget the images of violence and senseless slaughter, he spends nights at home with a paintbrush capturing those memories on canvas.

 

He supposes he could try painting on the train, but his mind is too unsettled and he can't concentrate.

 

He's passing her door, (he's lost count of how many times he's done so already) when he hears her crying out in her sleep.

 

Resting his hand against the door, he waits. Her soft little whimpers tap dance on his soul and he aches to comfort her, but he waits. It's a sick kind of torture he inflicts on himself, listening to her like it's penance for loving her when she clearly wants nothing to do with him.

 

After twenty minutes he can't take it any longer and opens the door. Moonlight falls across the bed, shadows dance across her face as she tosses and turns. Restless, like his mind. He wants to paint her, but only in peaceful slumber, and this is anything but peaceful.

 

He tries to wake her, but she resists.

 

“Katniss,” he hisses. “Katniss.”

 

Approaching the bed, he sits by her side and tries again.

 

“It's just a dream. Wake up.”

 

There is a vial of pills by the bed, so he picks it up and reads the label. He has a matching set by his bed, though he never uses them. They hold him under until he thinks he'll drown and he doesn't like the feeling.

 

He shakes her, hoping she'll at least crack an eye open.

 

She does, but he can tell it takes everything she has to fight off the effects of those damn pills. Her eyes droop and she whimpers again, grabs his hand and clings to it like a lifeline.

 

“I don't want to...” she cries out as her eyes close.

 

“Shhh, it's ok,” he brush her hair from her cheek with his free hand. “It was only a dream.”

 

Her eyes dart open again and she pulls herself up so her back rests against the headboard. She doesn't say anything just looks at him. He stares back.

 

“You should sleep,” He whispers after a moment.

 

She shakes her head no, but her eyes slip closed anyway. He tries to let go of her hand but she squeezes it and opens her eyes.

 

“You can't stay awake all night,” he tries to reason with her but she's stubborn and blinks her eyes trying to clear the sleep from them.

 

He sighs.

 

“Scoot over,” he whispers.

 

He doesn't think she will, but to his surprise she does. He thinks she'll let go of his hand, but she doesn't. Instead she grabs onto the edge of the blanket with her free hand and tugs. He stands so she can pull it out from under him.

 

She doesn't ask him to stay, just holds the blanket up and waits. He remembers how warm and soft she was in his arms in the cave. He aches to feel her pressed up against him again, and hates himself a little for how easy it is to climb in next to her and let her drape the blanket over both of them as she slides down next to him.

 

“Now go to sleep,” he murmurs as she lets his hand slip free.

 

He'll wait until she's asleep then he'll slip out when he knows she's resting peacefully. But she thwarts him as she cuddles close and rests her head right over his heart. Her fingers tangle in his shirt and he can't breathe.

 

She tilts her head back to look at him and when their eyes meet his heart skips a beat. There is something soft and happy there, a look on her face that might mirror his own.

 

For a minute he thinks she might love him after all.

 

* * *

**6\. The Quarter Quell**

* * *

**  
**  


She's going back into the arena.

 

He can't fucking believe it.

 

That fear for her life that has become entirely too familiar doesn't stop him for long this time. He's too angry.

 

He swallows his heart, putting it back where it fucking belongs. Wishes he could kill Snow himself. Wants to wrap his fingers around that bastard's neck and squeeze.

 

Instead he runs to Haymitch to tell him that he has to save her.

 

If she's going back in, so is he and they are going to need Haymitch more than ever this time.

 

He just hopes their mentor is sober enough to agree to his plan.

 

 

* * *

**One Time It Did**

* * *

**  
**  


When his heart actually stops, he doesn't feel it. Doesn't even know it happens.

 

He opens his eyes after, sucking in gulps of breath, and she's crying. Big gasping tears that could drown the world.

 

“There's a force field up ahead,” he jokes, trying to make her smile.

 

She tells him he was dead, that his heart stopped beating, and he smiles.

 

 _It's not the first time_ , he thinks as he gathers her in his arms and she crashes her lips to his.

 

“Well, it seems to be working now.”

 

He thinks they really must be tethered to each other, because somehow she always manages to bring him back to life.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
